Moonchilde
by White Eyebrow
Summary: Not all rescues are heroic. — A Halloween submission written for The Houses Competition, Year 5, Round 6


House: Gryffindor

Class Subject: Potions

Category: Standard

Prompts:  
[Song Prompt] I Put a Spell on You by Screaming Jay Hawkins  
[Character] Fenrir Greyback

Word Count: 1622 (google docs) 18 (author's notes)

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Moonchilde

The maelstrom of a battle surrounds me. I don't remember how, but I lose my balance atop a balcony. As I fall through the air, panicked, I struggle to remember the spell.

"_Arresto Momen—"_

But, I hit the ground hard. I feel a wetness on the back of my neck, then everything goes numb. The pain is gone, but my body… something is wrong.

My eyes catch a blur of grey to my right. I gasp when his whiskers brush against my cheek—one of the few areas where I still have feeling—and he sniffs loudly. The monster straddles me, baring his fangs; I can't scream. His head nestles on the side of my face, and my head twitches.

I hear a slurping sound. _What is he slurping? _And a warmth washes over my body; it feels… pleasant.

"NO!" I recognise her voice—the witch who stole my Ron.

There is a flash of light, followed by a rush of air, and the monster is gone from me. I look to the left, as far as my eyes can move in their orbs, and I see Ron holding _her_ hand as they run off. I try to call out to him, but despite all my efforts, my body just stirs feebly.

Everything goes dark.

—oOo—

_Arise, my child._

My eyes snap open, and I scream in the darkness. I still can't move, not because of a deficit of function, but rather from a deficit of space.

My limbs thrash about, testing the confines of my universe. My prison appears flimsy, so I push with all my might, and the dark firmament above cracks. I am subsequently gagged by a rush of dirt that floods my space, but I fight it, clawing ever upward, gravity my only means of orientation.

My hand breaks the surface, and I feel the cool air. I pull myself out. Exhausted, I lay my head on the dewy grass. I can hear the many blades of grass 'creaking' as they sway in the breeze; I lift my head and massage my ears. The rushing wind carries with it the sounds of all creation in its wake… _Why is everything so loud?_

I wipe the dirt from my eyes and blink several times. The first thing I notice is my dirty Yule Ball dress—my favourite—but the colours are off. The grass is likewise greyed. I glance about; everything looks visually insipid in the daylight.

Then I smell him.

I sniff the air and turn in the monster's direction—the Grey One from the battle—a large, vicious-looking animal of a man with matted grey hair. A weathered dark robe fits tightly over his muscled frame; his overly tight trousers pucker at the seams.

He regards me, crouched, a good twenty paces away. "It's about time, girl; I was starting to think it didn't take."

The sight of him… I feel my lips curl into a snarl, and my instincts take over.

I close the distance between us within a single breath, eager to dig my nails into his face, anything to rid me of his arrogant smirk.

He catches me in midair and throws me off. I right myself, alighting against a stone pillar and nimbly hop off, landing on the balls of my feet. At my glower, his growl precedes a gratified grin that exposes the garrish glint of yellowed fangs. He curls his finger in answer, and I oblige him.

I run toward him, but two legs aren't fast enough, so I instinctively push off against the ground, elongate my spine, and grip the earth with my nails—arms and legs working together in one fluid stride.

My intellect is a mere witness to these events. _How am I doing this?_

I assail upon him, my fingers clawed, opening with a swipe aimed at his throat—but he ducks. I leverage the momentum gained from my missed attack and parlay it into a spinning roundhouse kick, eager to knock his head off his shoulders, but he calmly moves askew, steps inside the arc of my kick, and grabs me from behind.

"That'll be enough of that, girl."

I… _howl,_ helpless against his superior strength.

He slings me over his shoulder. "Don't you know what you _are_ by now?" And he carries me back to the hole that I clawed myself out of. He drops me on the ground, grabbing my ankle as I try to crawl away, and forces my head to the fore.

He snarls. "Look at it!"

My teary eyes come into focus, and I scream as I never have before as I read the engraving on the object.

Here Lies Lavender Brown  
Beloved Daughter

I finally realise where I am. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

"You were dying. I saved you."

"WHY?"

"I've wanted you from the first time I set eyes on you in the battle," he says softly, considerate of my sensitive ears. "You've bewitched me, you have."

I make no effort to stop my tears. "I WANT TO GO HOME!"

"You can't—"

"PLEASE!"

"They'll think you're a demon; they'll destroy you."

He continues to hold me in an iron grip as I resist him—kicking and screaming—to no avail. Eventually, I tire myself out, and from sheer exhaustion I go limp in his arms, sobbing.

He takes pity on me and gently brushes aside a lock of hair draped over my ear, whispering, "You must be hungry."

"Very."

He carries me amongst the tombstones to an aged oak tree in the centre of the cemetery. There is a unicorn tied to the trunk, grazing at the base of the tree. The animal tries to run as we approach, but the rope tied around her torso holds her fast.

I smile. "She's adorable!" I love unicorns.

He sets me down, and goes over to the mare. She neighs violently as she struggles against the rope that binds her.

I rise to my feet and approach them. "May I pet her?"

"Do what you like; I brought her here for _you."_

Her continued distress makes me frown. "Why is she scared?"

He leers. "Because she's smart."

"You're hurting her!" I say. "Let her go this instant!"

"As you wish." And with a single swipe, his claws sever the rope.

The unicorn bolts, and I give chase.

Giggling, I keep up with her effortlessly. She darts left and right, covering several feet in a single bound; it's like a game. I leap onto her back so as to ride her, but she bucks violently, forcing me to squeeze my thighs as hard as I can, lest I fall off.

I hear a snapping sound, and the creature stumbles, wailing in pain as I cradle her between my legs; her ribs feel oddly loose, so I relax my thighs, but I continue to hold her in my arms, stilling her as she thrashes about.

I pet her, to show that I am a friend; her mane flows like silk, and her pelt is so amazingly soft. I've never been this close to something so pure, so beautiful… so delectable.

My fingers glide over a spot on her neck; I can feel it pulse where her life bubbles so closely to the surface of her skin. I lean in to kiss it.

_Why are my teeth so sharp?_

We both shudder; I feel as one with the creature. Her powerful heart excites me, encouraging me to suck—just like giving Ron a little love bite.

_THA-THUMP-THA-THUMP-THA-THUMP-THA-THUMP-THA-THUMP!_

Her essence fills my mouth so fast, I can't swallow it all. It tastes… like life itself.

Her heart slows, but still beats strong. I continue gulping.

_THA-THUMP… THA-THUMP… THA-THUMP…_

She's stopped kicking; I think she's realised that I don't want to hurt her. I'm relieved that she's calmer now as her heart beats ever slower.

_tha-thump… tha-thump…_

And slower.

_tha-thump…_

_tha-thump…_

_..._

I wonder why her essence has stopped flowing. _Is she asleep? _I shake her, but she does not move. When I regard her glazed eyes, I shriek. A layer of silver coats my gown.

I abandon the corpse, my belly distended. A trail of her essence follows me as I find the grey monster waiting at my graveside. He leans against the tombstone.

My lip trembles. "What am I?"

"You are like me: a child of the moon." He points to the sky.

It is then that I see her—Luna—but why is the moon shining so brightly in the daylight?

I gasp, realising it's night-time, yet I can _see_ everything. No, that word is too tame; they all are. _Seeing, hearing, smelling…_ these words no longer have any meaning to me—all on account of _her._

"Mother…."

The Grey One takes my hand. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

I nod. "Everyone should know her… she's love…."

"Yes," he says. "And they will—with your help."

As the unicorn's essence flows through me, I feel a power I have never known before, as well as a hunger, but not the kind sated by food. I regard my prey.

The Grey One winces as I dig my nails—no, my _claws_—into his sides. I pick him up and slam him on the ground atop my grave. I straddle him; my recent meal viscerally sloshes about, making for an odd borborygmus when I press my belly against his.

I lower myself so as to sniff the flesh around his neck loudly. "Why do you smell so good?"

He chuckles through his pain-clenched teeth. "You're in heat… It's the reason why we're not fully transformed."

I snort, amused by my prey. "I'll never love you..."

"I don't care." He relents under my newfound strength. "You're still mine."

Saliva drips from my fangs. "No... You're _mine...!" _

As will be Ron!

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A/N: I might finish this in my D.A. Chronicles series, depending on how this is received.


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